


A Serial Killers Guide to Maintaining Healthy Relationships

by ConfusedPancake



Category: Original Work
Genre: And severed limbs, Dark Humor, F/M, Hitmen, I Don't Even Know, More tags to be added, My First AO3 Post, Non-sequential timeline, Psychologically fucked individuals, Psychopaths In Love, Serial Killers, Short Chapters, So much anxiety, at least i hope it's funny, i don't know how to tag, lots of dead bodies, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:58:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfusedPancake/pseuds/ConfusedPancake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As I step forward, I look into his green eyes and watch as the surprise slides across his features as smoothly as my knife slips past his ribs. A smile of anticipation begins to spread across my face, but it is abruptly interrupted when an axe crashes into the man’s forehead, splitting open his lovely features.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is something a friend and I have been considering writing for a while. I just scribbled this out and I'm not sure if I am going to keep going or not. I was hoping for some feedback, so please let me know what you think! Also, this is not beta read, so any editing errors you see, tell me and my inner grammar-Nazi will love you forever.

I check my watch for what feels like the seven-thousandth time, then swing my gaze back to the trail.  
“Fucker should have been here by now.” I grumble - patience has never been one of my strong suits. Sitting here for almost an hour had only exacerbated my already plentiful temper, and at this point I was almost ready to go find him rather than wait here any longer.  
Just as I swung my messenger bag over my shoulder though, I heard the grind of gravel against the sole of a shoe and froze. Slipping the strap back off, I stepped back into the trees and drop my bag. Completely unaware of what was waiting for him, a man was strolling casually down the trail, his enjoyment of the night air clear. His head was bobbing in time to whatever tune was flowing through his headphones, and he made little faces has he sang silently along. I rolled my shoulders restlessly and grinned. It had been a long time since I had a kill this cute.  
Fifteen steps, twelve steps, ten, seven – he only had to take five more strides to be in the perfect position for me to make my move.  
I take a deep breath and adjusted my grip on the handle of the stainless steel knife in my hand.  
“Right… now.” I whispered.  
As I step forward, I look into his green eyes and watch as the surprise slides across his features as smoothly as my knife slips past his ribs. A smile of anticipation begins to spread across my face, but it is abruptly interrupted when an axe crashes into the man’s forehead, splitting open his lovely features.  
Peering around the now-dead man, I gape at the crazed girl holding the axe that has just ruined my perfect kill.  
“Who the hell are you?”


	2. Sharing is Caring

The scrape and clatter of metals being tossed against each other echoes through the small apartment as Mercy rifles through the black duffel bag on the dining room table.  
“Hey, where’s the bone saw?”  
Alice’s head rises slowly from her crouch next to their recently captured victim, hand frozen mid-poke. “Uh…”  
“Alice.” The dangerous edge in Mercy’s voice is poorly concealed, sliding through the air as sharp as her beloved knives. “Did you forget the bone saw again?”  
“Maybe.”  
Mercy turns to Alice, chaotic fury swirling in her dark eyes. Whimpering pitifully, the twenty-something brunette the girls had captured struggles to slip out of the ropes that have him secured to his coffee table.  
“Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell am I supposed to do this without my bone saw?”  
“I dunno.” Alice shrugs indifferently, walking into the dining room to peer into the large bag of assorted weapons, the plastic they had laid down earlier crackling under her feet.  
“How many times is this now? It’s not that hard to remember!”  
“If it’s that important, maybe you should get the bone saw from now on. You’re the only one who uses it anyway.” Pulling out a delicate four-inch dagger, Alice fingers the edge absently.  
“Only because you refuse to even try it.”  
“I just prefer the traditional route.”  
At this, Mercy scoffs. “You mean less elegant. All you do with that axe is hack up the bodies. If I didn’t supervise you, we would never have anything to take to Max.” As she drops the dagger back into its sheath, Alice harrumphs at Mercy’s statement and sends a narrow-eyed glare at her.  
“Screw you.”  
“See? You can’t even argue.” Mercy grins triumphantly. “There’s a reason we only call Max when it’s my kill.”  
Just as Alice is about to retort, the girls hear the floorboards creak and swing around to find their victim running past them, into the hall, and straight for the front door. At some point while the girls were arguing he had untied himself and was now sprinting across the apartment to the front door.  
“Fuck! Alice!” Mercy screeches as she grabs a knife from the duffel. Just as she whirls around, ready to launch the blade, Alice appears. Grabbing the man’s collar, she wrenches the man off of his feet in a single sweep of her arm. He lands four feet away, sprawled in the hallway and opens his eyes to see both the girls look down at him, their compassionless eyes glowing with false pity.  
“That wasn’t a very smart decision.” Alice frowns disapprovingly.  
Mercy nods sympathetically. “This really wasn’t going to be all that bad for you.”  
“It’s Mercy’s turn today. She’s usually much nicer than I am.” Alice stage whispers.  
Rolling her eyes almost affectionately at her partner, Mercy lets a slow smile spread across her pretty features. As her smile widens, her dark chocolate eyes sparkle and abruptly darken to a soulless black.  
“Alice? Remember what I said about you just hacking up our victims?”  
Understanding spreads across Alice’s face and she grins wildly, displaying the reckless insanity that she normally works so hard to conceal.

*****

An hour and a half later, the girls are seated on the floor next to the nearly unrecognizable corpse of the brunette. Honestly, its being generous to even call it a corpse anymore. Two limbs – probably legs – are lying haphazardly in the corner, seemingly tossed out of the way. A mangled torso is still displayed on the coffee table, the abdomen split open and clearly missing several organs. Barely-attached ligaments hold fragments of skull to the neck, and the two remaining limbs are nowhere to be seen. Brain matter lies scattered like dust bunnies – under the couch, in every corner, and collected in a neat pile on the floor that is slowly becoming messier as Alice swirls it around with her index finger.  
“I told you that I could send presents to Max too.” She gloats. Mercy rolls her eyes and holds up the small ice chest containing a heart and a liver.  
“No you didn’t. Besides, this is the first time in almost a year of working on our projects that you have had anything for Max, and I still had to help you to make sure you didn’t cut off the blood supply too soon. You have earned zero bragging rights.”  
Sticking her tongue out at Mercy, Alice pouts and flicks the brain matter spitefully.  
“I gotta call Max,” Mercy announces, as she rises off the floor hits the speed dial on her phone. “If these sit too long they’ll go bad.”  
She wanders into the kitchen and opens the fridge, looking for some kind of post-kill snack while the phone rings. As she pulls out a Ziploc of ribs, the ringing stops and she quickly hits speaker.  
“We’re done. When can you meet us?” Mercy demands before Max can even say hello.  
“Mercy dear, nice to hear your voice.” Max’s charming voice seems to hold genuine glee, whether from Mercy’s call or something else. “I’m in the middle of something now, but I have an associate who can help you out. I’ll text you the place.”  
He hangs up abruptly, however not before an agonized scream emerges from the speaker. Mercy steps back into the living room and Alice turns to look at her with one of the previously missing arms in hand.  
“Hey, how was Max?” Her earlier mood gone, Alice cheerily inquires about their non-friend.  
Mercy shrugged noncommittally. “He couldn’t talk long, but it sounded like he was having fun.”  
“Where’s he gonna meet us?” Alice asks as she swings the severed arm over her shoulder and proceeds to use it as a back-scratcher.  
“He said something about being busy and having one of his people meet us.”  
“Max has people?” Surprise was clear in Alice’s voice.  
Just then, Mercy’s phone buzzes and Max’s name pops up on her screen.  
“He says to meet his guy at the construction site off Poppy. Let’s go.”  
Dropping the limb onto the floor, Alice grabs the duffel bag and walks after Mercy. She turns to survey the scene one last time. The clear plastic they had covered the living room in was still in place, and one arm was now with the legs in the corner, the other in the center of the living room where Alice had left it. As she did a final scan to ensure nothing had been left behind, she threw a quick reminder over her shoulder at Mercy.  
“Make sure you have the key! We have to be able to get back in here to clean up!”  
“I know! Just hurry up. The longer these organs are on ice, the less they are worth.”


	3. Sharing is caring - cont.

Fifteen minutes later, both of them are leaning against the hood of their rusty, beat up ’68 Charger, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Max’s ‘associate’.  
“He said to look for a black Escalade.” Mercy’s voice contained a level of boredom Alice had previously been certain was reserved only for high school history lectures and monologues from the elderly.  
After ten more minutes of waiting, Mercy stood up and walked back to the driver’s seat.  
“I’m done. This is killing my brain cells.”  
“What? You’re the one who made me be extra careful with tonight’s project! If it weren’t for you, I could have practiced opening the rib cage with my axe!”  
“So?” Mercy looked blankly at Alice.  
“So? So, if I had to fuck with my system, then you can stand here till Max’s fucking guy is here to collect these organs! It took way too much work to let those little shits go to waste!” Alice screeched furiously.  
Squinting accusingly, Mercy just sat back in the driver’s seat and glared at her roommate.  
“If they aren’t here in six minutes, I am leaving – whether you are in the car or not.” She informed her crankily. Alice just smiled happily, pleased she had coerced Mercy into waiting.  
The dark-haired girl owed her after all. She had ruined a full night of slaughtering by persistently keeping Alice from “mutilating that artery” or “slicing that vein”. The continuous concern for their new toy’s blood supply had grated on Alice the entire night, severely impacting the usual high she received.  
While Alice was lost in her mournful remembering of the night, the promised black Escalade pulled into the construction site. The blacked-out windows revealed nothing as the large wheels came to a stop and the engine cut. Two burly men in dress slacks and starched shirts stepped out of the front seats, not even attempting to hide the shoulder holsters fully equipped with .45-caliber handguns.  
Mercy slid out of the Charger and slinked over to stand next to her partner. An elbow to the ribs brought Alice back to reality, and then the girls were ready to face whatever Max’s ‘friend’ had to throw at them.  
The back door swung open and a tall, lean man with short dirty blond hair stepped out of the car. His wild green gaze swept the perimeter, and settled quickly on the girls.  
“Damn. So this is what Max has been hiding.” He smirked.  
Fury crept up Mercy’s spine, and she seemed to compress physically, as a dark aura collected around her.  
“I’m Ian.” The man introduced himself, as he strolled forward with a cocky grin. “You know, I was pissed when Max said he needed me to come take care of this, but now I’m reconsidering. This night might turn out pretty good after all.”  
A small smile crept onto Alice’s lips as she watched Ian appraise Mercy. He met Mercy’s eyes and raised a critical brow.  
“Definitely a good night.” He declared smugly, leering at Mercy’s small frame.  
At this, the tension that had been accumulating in Mercy’s body reaches its breaking point. A knife seems to simply materialize in her hand, and she settled back into a fighting stance with practiced ease. The aura that had been steadily collecting around her intensified, then compressed into her eyes to create a glare that could skin a man in a second.  
“I like him.” Alice’s sudden declaration distracts Mercy for a moment, and when the statement registers fully she turns to her partner in horror.  
“Can we keep him?” Alice pleads.  
“You like him.” Mercy says incredulously, while still managing to maintain her blankly apathetic expression.  
“Yep, I’ve never seen someone make you that angry so fast! It was awesome.” Gesturing happily at Ian, Alice bounces on the balls of her feet gleefully. Ian chuckles and observes the exchange in blatant amusement.  
One of the goons Ian had brought with him suddenly speaks up. “Sir, if these girls brought you the same thing they always bring Max, the sooner we take possession of the goods, the better.”  
Ian nods, and is suddenly the epitome of underground businessman. His large shoulders stretch the fabric of the suit that hugs his muscular frame; a sharp glint in his deep green eyes displays his ruthless cunning. “Is it true that you two are Max’s source?”  
Mercy abruptly swings back towards the car and stalks to the back seat. Frowning slightly in confusion, Ian looks to Alice for clarification.  
“She’s getting the presents.” Alice explains excitedly.  
“Presents?” Ian repeats, confused.  
“Don’t you know?” Alice tilts her slightly in inquiry. “We bring Max presents after we finish with our projects. I thought he sent you to pick them up.”  
Returning with the ice chest in hand, Mercy lifts it and unceremoniously drops it into Ian’s hands. He fumbles with it for a moment, having been caught by surprise, then pops open the lid to check its contents.  
“Shit, Max wasn’t kidding. You really are his suppliers.” Ian looks at the girls in blatant shock.  
“Of course we are.” Alice giggles. “Why else did you think we would come all the way out here to meet you?”  
Ian grins lopsidedly. “Honestly? I thought Max was fucking with me when he told me he needed me to meet his suppliers, and that I should look for two girls with an ice chest. How did you get these?”  
“You don’t want to know.” Mercy snaps.  
“Oh, trust me, I do.” He corrects her.  
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs and meets his eyes. “We pulled them out of the corpse of the boy we killed tonight. I think he was around twenty, so those should be pretty high-grade.”  
The rage and hatred that emanate from Mercy’s eyes make Ian step back, and leave no doubt in his mind that she is deadly serious. His gaze quickly flickers between the girls in a much different sort of appraisal than earlier. When he truly looks at the girls he realizes they are much more dangerous than he ever would have assumed. Alice’s abundant personality and tall body gracefully conceal the steely muscles that are stretched taught over her entire body and each movement speaks of barely contained strength. Mercy’s petite structure and captivating eyes effectively distract from the catlike movements, and lightness of foot that could easily make her a deadly opponent.  
Mentally berating himself for his blunder, Ian smiles at the girls again, however respect and a healthy amount of fear are now all that shine from his expression. Alice nods once in approval at his new view of them, and Mercy maintains the same agitated impatience she adopted earlier.  
“Well, regardless, I still think this night is turning out much better than I had thought it would.” Ian smiles, pulling himself together and replacing the business-man façade.  
“Yep, this night is definitely getting better.” Alice agrees as she watches Ian look at Mercy with respectful curiosity.


	4. When fighting a friend, never aim for the major arteries.

The oak door of the main house creaks in agitation as Ian swings it open. A few long moments pass without any sound. Max rises from his place in the parlor and makes his way to the front of the house.  
“Ian, what are you doing?” He asks when he sees his friend and occasional employer standing motionless, holding the door. Ian says nothing, but a familiar voice can be heard from the porch.  
“Max?” Alice calls.  
Striding over in slight alarm, Max’s eyes widen in a rare display of surprise when he finally takes in the scene on the porch.  
Alice is smiling sweetly in greeting and Mercy is wearing her trademark expression of irritated boredom. Both girls are splattered in blood, and their clothes are ripped and filthy. However, what had shocked Max and Ian was the unnatural angle at which Mercy’s left arm was hanging from its socket and the slowly bleeding wound that Alice was clutching on her abdomen.  
“What the hell happened?” Max exclaims.  
“We got in a fight.” Mercy states.  
“With who?” Ian asks in horror.  
“Each other.” Alice pipes up. “We need medical attention. Mercy stabbed me, and I dislocated her arm! It might be broken too.” She adds gleefully. Ian stiffens even further, and Max stares even harder at the girls.  
“I wanted Chinese takeout, and she wanted Thai. We didn’t have a coin to flip, so we fought for it.” Mercy explains when they both look at her for clarity.  
“I thought you two were friends? How could you do this to each other?” Ian stares at their wounds, aghast.  
“We are friends.” Alice giggles. “That’s why we compromised and got pizza. It was really good!”  
“Actually, it was the only thing I could eat with one hand. But it was okay.” Mercy corrects.  
Max blinks slowly, trying to understand. “You ate before you came over here?”  
Mercy frowns at him. “Of course. We were hungry.”  
He glances at Alice’s stab wound.  
“How did you not bleed out before you got here?” he asks.  
Alice lifts up her shirt and points at her stomach. “We have a stapler.”  
Sure enough, there is a haphazard row of four staples holding the edges of the wound together.  
“How could you eat with injuries like that?” Ian practically yells.  
“Well, we had to clean all the blood off the floor before we left or it was gonna stain, and we figured while we did that, we could have pizza delivered. Then once the pizza guy got to our place, we were too hungry to wait.” Mercy begins, until Alice interrupts.  
She reaches over and shakes Mercy violently for a moment. “The pizza delivery guy!”  
Sending a glare at her partner for interrupting, Mercy continues speaking. “Right. The pizza guy is in the trunk. Can you grab him? He saw us and freaked out and tried to call the cops.”  
“So I hit him with a crowbar before he could!” Alice announces.  
Mercy nods once. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s just unconscious, but who knows. I don’t think Alice hit him that hard though.”  
“Right, um I can have somebody take care of him.” Ian volunteers. He and Max both seem to be in a daze, the erratic behavior of their female friends momentarily too much for them to comprehend.  
“Great. Now can we come inside? If we have to stand out here any longer Alice is gonna faint.” Mercy points out dryly.  
“Shit. Of course.” Max shakes himself and steps out of the doorway to let the girls pass. As they walk through the doorway, he shares a bewildered look with Ian.  
Ten minutes later the girls are seated on the faux leather couch in the living room of the main house. Ian and Max are perched on the coffee table in front of them tending their injuries. Alice is covered in shallow cuts from her shoulders down, and the stab wound is still bleeding slowly. After super-gluing the major cuts, Max is carefully removing the staples from Alice’s abdomen. Next to them, Mercy is gripping her shoulder that Ian just finished relocating while he puts a soft cast on her forearm.  
“I don’t think it’s broken, but there’s a pretty good chance you’ve got a fracture. It should take four weeks or so for it to be back to normal.” Ian informs Mercy, while he tightens the final wrap on her cast.  
“Wait, you mean I have to wait four weeks to use this?” She snaps. “How the hell am I supposed to finish any projects without my arm?”  
He chuckles. “I think you’ll manage.”  
As he reaches to finish fastening the bandages she leans forward and grabs the collar of his shirt. His eyes meet hers and widen in surprise, which quickly morphs into fear.  
“If this takes any longer than that to heal, I will make you regret making that promise.” Mercy informs him quietly, a determined glint in her eyes that is reserved for her most desperate moments.


	5. Respect the fears of others, or they shall not respect yours

The main house is eerily quiet as Max walks through the front door. He reaches immediately for his gun, and raises it to eye level. Scanning each room of the house, he clears the parlor, the library and the office before finding anything.  
Propped against the doorframe that leads from the library to the living room, Ian’s face is ghostly pale and he is far too still. Approaching warily, prepared to protect himself from whoever did this, Max nudges Ian’s limp body with the toe of his leather shoe. When no response is apparent, he moves into the living room and his eyes inventory the room and land on a hand draped over the back of the couch. Once again moving in to inspect, Max walks slowly over hoping that the hand is still attached to a body. He is in luck. The hand evidently belongs to Alice.  
“Alice.” Max says softly.  
He reaches over the back of the sofa and places two fingers on her neck, checking for a pulse. Before he even has enough pressure on his fingers to feel her vein, Alice lurches up and looks at him in wild terror.  
“No longer mourn for me when I am dead. Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell. Give warning to the world that I am fled...” She quotes dramatically, as Max stumbles back into the wall. He watches Alice for a moment is confusion.  
“Alice…” He phrases her name almost as a question, attempting to avoid prompting any more irratic behavior. “What happened? Are you okay?”  
Suddenly, icy fingers encase his ankle, and in a single smooth movement, Max has his gun pointed directly at the owner of the offending digits from a newly prepared distance.  
“Help… I’m… dy-“ Ian’s stilted speech is cut off by wet, wracking coughs.  
“What the fuck?” Max grimaces at his friend and takes another step back. “Ian, I thought you were dead.”  
Reaching desperately for Max, Ian barely gets out one word, “Help!” before violently heaving and depositing the contents of his stomach across the floor. Promptly collapsing into the reeking puddle, he then lies there, as motionless as when Max first found him.  
Max glancing pleadingly at Alice for answers, but she is still mumbling under her breathe, this time seemingly quoting Titanic.  
“Fuckin’ Mercy.” Max growls looking around the room, placing his gun back into the shoulder holster. “Knew she’d crack one day and kill us all.”  
All at once, Max feels an icy gaze on his back and he can hear small labored breathes over Alice’s incessant monologue. Placing his hand back on his gun Max turns to find nothing a large pile of blankets.  
Blankets that are moving. Blankets that are wearing a beanie. Blankets that are peering at him with angry black eyes.  
Hand still on his gun, Max creeps towards the pile staring suspiciously at the pink beanie adorned with a large pompom.  
“Mercy?” Max asks slowly.  
“Yeah it’s Mercy, you asswipe.” The blankets croak.  
Max makes a gesture of innocence and looks at her in bewilderment. “What the hell is going on here. And why are you angry at me?”  
“Fucking Ian gave us the flu.” The blankets then tremble violently as Mercy coughs.  
“And I did not crack and kill anyone,” she points out bitterly. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.”  
“Okay, if all you have is the flu, why are the three of you acting like you’ve caught the plague?”  
“This is the flu from hell.” She moans. “And these two are total weenies.”  
Sending an appraising look at the other two occupants of the room, Max had to nod in agreement. Ian is lying face down in a pool of his own bile and Alice has a pitiful hand thrown over her eyes and was mumbling weakly under her breathe – something about greeting the reaper when he comes for her.  
“Well, you three have fun with this, I’m leaving before any of you contaminate me.” Max announces.  
“No fucking way.” Mercy growls. Now officially concerned for his wellbeing, Max turns to leave but a clammy hand on his wrist stops him.  
“Nice try buddy,” Mercy taunts weakly. “But now you are already contaminated.”  
The horror on Max’s face is almost comical as he stares at the small hand encircling his wrist.  
“You didn’t.” He whispers.  
Although Mercy’s face is still hidden in the blankets, Max can feel the sadistic grin that spreads across her face.  
“I already did. That hand has been my tissue for the past twelve hours. It is absolutely covered in-” Another wet hacking cough interrupts Mercy, and sends a shudder through Max’s large frame.  
“-germs.” She finishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just wanted to let y'all know this isn't dead yet. I have a few more chapter/scene things in the works, everything is just taking quite some time to fall into place. Hopefully updates soon!!


End file.
